Ugly, sublime
by Prue Halliwell Snape
Summary: Dedicated to all Snape fans who really appreciate the potions master. He's taking a moment to himself, and takes a long , long bath, for you to enjoy.


Candles.

That's the only thing that lightens the cold stones of the wall, creating a mystique yet sensual environment. I hear your footsteps coming along. your skin shimmers your hair looks like the night.

Black, you're covered in black. Black really IS your colour . Black is your hair, your eyes, your clothes, in contrast to your white, silky skin.You start to get rid of it, loosing your robe jacket, your shirt, get rid of your shoes.

Unzipping your pants. My heart is beating so fast I'm afraid you might hear it, but you're just too focused on yourself to notice. Your legs are thin but shaped, beautiful, you take off your underpants and move to the tub. Your nakedness is one of the best sights ever, as you walk gracefully, you stop and sink yourself into the warm, wellcoming water.

Gasp.

That's all I can do controlling myself from the need to go to you, and touch you, lick you, ravage you fill each and every inch of your skin with my essence , and I'm jealous of the water that covers you completely. Your head comes out , your hair is soaked and looks like raven feathers, like satin sheets in which I would love to lay with you and get lost in the pretty contrast of ebony and ivory.

Your hands reach a little bottle, your long, thin fingers swirl around the top carefully and the cap is out with a soft "pop" you pour some of the bottle's content in your hand, a thick nearly transparent fluid with a subtle perfume that reaches my nose and I allmost let out a moan as two of my senses are delighted while the others are craving for more.

You don't know, but my ears are pleased as you start to humm tunelessly. Your voice is one of the things that I enjoy the most about you. Silk, deep. You give every word its right weight.

Poetry,

you make everything you say sound like poetry. The candles are burning a bit excited, the flames dance around you, playing with your skin, your collarbone is expoused . Tiny little drops that look like crystal on your skin slip down your chest, caressing you, kissing you. Damn. I hate them, I hate them so much I want to suck them out of you; let my tongue take their place, my lips my teeth, my soul.

The raven hair is covered with foam and your hands are massaging it, your fingertips dance gracefully all over your head, washing it. God , I wish they were washing MY hair , quite experimented fingers they are, the touch shall feel marvelous.

Do you know you're beautiful? yes, you are.

Yes, you are.

You stand up and your nakedness is vulnerable to my sight who shamelessly possess you, not a single portion of you is missed. You move to the shower, you're cold, yet amazing.

Your particular warm rain makes you even more sensual. It takes the foam away and I can see you're enjoying it. You take the soap and pass it through your body. It's not alone, my eyes are following it. Starts with your left arm and you flinch a little as you touch the dark mark. You wish it would fade and never come back

It goes through your neck, down your chest, your abdomen. Tracing each and every muscle, goes down through your legs, to your feet. You bow and leave the soap. Then you make all the way up touching your body .

Art.

Your hands works your muscles as they would do with clay. They press, massage, rub. You're sculpturing yourself. It's amazing the attention you put to your knees, and thighs, your firm, defined thighs.

Lust

Our faces contort as you touch yourself. Such a pretty picture you make I don't even dare to blink, can't miss a single detail. Sweat and water mixed as one. Your hoarse groan invades the room which is now on fire not because of the candles but because of you.

Your hands go harder, your chest goes up and down with every breathe. The water is touching you as well, your veins are pulsating with the drops' rhytm.

Release.

A wonderful word, a wonderful image. The water rinses it all. Then stops. You grab a towel and gently press it against your body , it's warm and soft. You dry your hair as well, funny, but it takes the same looks as before the bath.

We are used to enjoy watching when people undress, but getting dressed is also subtle science and exact art. At least for you, I can tell. You take your clean clothes and the ritual starts. You don't just put the clothes on, you become who you are. It's not a black suit, it's an armour. A mask you wear to hide yourself from pain. A heavy role in this farse, but yet, so meant for you that people actually buy you that attitude: cold, sarcastic, rude.

Do you know, you're beautiful? You are

Yes, you are.

Carefully you fold your dirty clothes and go turning off the candles one by one.

Darkness.

That's what reminds as you left the room in silence. I would move and leave now that is safe. But this sublime experience can't really end now. I don't want it to end. I inhale deeply and close my eyes to relive what had just happened in here.

Snort

And people say you're ugly.


End file.
